Intoxicated
by kinseyjo
Summary: Never again would Seeley Booth accuse Temperance Brennan of not understanding the concept of getting drunk.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: You know, I have to say I heart all y'all over here in Bonesland. Your reviews ROCK – I love love LOVE hearing what your favorite line of the story was. Please tell me! Here's another one!

Disclaimer: Throughout this story, only my overactive imagination will belong to me. If that changes, I PROMISE you'll know about it. You'll hear me scream.

--

Never again would Seeley Booth accuse Temperance Brennan of not understanding the concept of getting drunk. He shook his head at the goofy happiness radiating off of her and Angela Montenegro as they stumbled back from their third trip to the bathroom in half an hour. Temperance stopped and leaned on the pool table, holding her stomach in an attempt to control her giggles. When she looked up, her bright blue eyes met his and she shot him a dazzling grin.

"So, whaddya think of my little dive bar?" Jack Hodgins asked (quite literally, considering he owned the joint), dragging Seeley's attention away from the beautiful anthropologist.

"I love it, man. Reminds me of a place we used to go when I was at Quantico. Strong drinks, good music, and beautiful women," he grinned, clinking his beer bottle against his buddy's. He took a deep swallow as the beautiful women in question sidled up to the bar.

"Whatcha doin, boys?" Angela asked, slinging a slender arm around Jack's neck.

"Just talkin' about all the hot women here tonight," Jack answered, earning a grin from his fiancée.

Tempe nodded emphatically. "I _am_ hot. Aren't you guys? It's like a sauna in here," she commented literally. Her brilliant mind switched gears quickly as a very familiar Foreigner song came on the juke box. "Boooooooooth!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's our sonnnnnng!" she giggled drunkenly. "Dance with me," she shouted in the voice of someone who thought she was whispering seductively. He only shook his head at her silliness and grinned, taking the hand she offered and spinning her out.

"Not like _that_," she grinned, turning her back to him and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "Like _this_," she said, grinding her ass against him.

Jesus _Christ_ she was drunk. Even at the drunkest he'd ever seen her, and that time she had a methamphetamine contact high, she'd been nothing like this.

"Uh, Bones," he began in her ear.

"What?" she asked innocently, reaching up and wrapping her arm around his neck.

"Nothing," he said. "I forgot," he finished lamely.

She nodded and told him if it was important she was sure he'd remember eventually.

Oh, it was pretty important all right, but he was just planning to grit his teeth and power through, praying neither of his heads exploded.

A few moments later, the song and the sweet torture of dancing with Temperance ended. "Thanks for the dance, Bones," He smiled gently, planning his escape to the back of the bar to stick his head in the cooler. But first, unable to resist the temptation of all that beautiful flushed skin, he moved to drop a kiss on her cheek. Apparently disarmed by his sudden movement, she turned her head. And his kiss landed directly on her lips with a wet 'smack.'

Part of him said to pull away, that not only was he _not_ the type of guy to take advantage of a woman, this one was his partner. The other part of him (the latter part that was currently beating the crap out of the former) screamed for him to tangle his fingers in her hair and shove his tongue down her throat. Common sense persevered with a happy medium and he pulled back for a moment, dropping another gentle kiss on her incredibly soft lips. If he didn't get canonized for his incredible display of self-restraint, he was going to be picking a _big_ fight with St. Peter.

"Booth," she sighed, looking up at him with lust-colored eyes, "do that again," she whispered.

Well, hell. He also wasn't the type of guy to make a woman beg.

He cupped the back of her head gently, placing another teasing kiss on her lips. "More," she groaned. And then she shoved her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth tightly against hers, and he damn near spontaneously combusted on the spot. He managed to think clearly enough to walk her backwards to a dimly lit corner booth. She slid onto the table and hooked her booted feet gently around his calves, the whole time kissing him for all she was worth.

"Where'd Bren and Booth end up?" Angela asked jack, glancing back at the dance floor where they'd come from.

"Oh. My. Uh, Baby…?" Jack interrupted himself, grasping Angela by her upper arms. "You have to promise not to freak out. Because you're going to want to scream." Angela's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Jack, what the hell are you talking about?" she asked, bouncing from one foot to the other. "I just want to find Bren so I can go pee."

"Never mind. Just don't scream," he requested. He turned Angela around and pointed. "She's right there."

"Oh. My. G-" Jack clapped a hand over Angela's mouth as the other bar patrons turned and stared at them.

"You promised," he chuckled, dropping a light kiss on her shoulder.

Tempe knew. Logically, she knew that to an extent, her drunken behavior was a chemical reaction, and she was kissing Booth not because she was intoxicated, but because she wanted to.

Yes. Chemical reaction.

Captain Morgan's reaction to her blood.

Johnny Walker's reaction to her blood.

Jose Cuervo's reaction to her blood.

Was it just her or was all alcohol named after men?

_Whatever.__Like it matters__. You're__ making out with Booth. __No alcohol called__ Seeley__ Booth. __Mmmm__. Seeley.__ But there should be. And it should be strong. Like Booth. And warm. Like Booth. __And…_

She snuck a hand between the buttons on his blue oxford shirt and dragged them over the smooth, warm skin of his abdomen.

_Muscle-y.__ Like Booth._

_Yes. _"More," she whimpered. Oh, dear. Did that wanton growl just come out of _her_? At that point, straight-laced Dr. Temperance Brennan, anthropologist, could have cared less. Mostly because she didn't seem to be in the room. No, straight-laced Dr. Brennan had been booted -- by free-spirited Tempe Brennan, drunken seductress.

_Holy fuck_. Seeley tried not to jump back in shock at the feel of Tempe's hand caressing him through his jeans. He needed to get it reigned in before she tried to take them beyond his control. He only had two problems: number one, she didn't seem interested in stopping. Number two, he'd wanted this for way too long to be interested in convincing her that they should stop.

Her tongue slid over his easily, like they'd been doing this for years. She pulled back a second and gave him a grin that simultaneously weakened his knees and stiffened his cock. "Seeley." She sighed and her smile disappeared, being replaced by a look of sheer possession. Her lips crashed to his and he was in Heaven again. God. He was about to get off on making out with a woman in a bar. He hadn't run into that problem, well, ever. Usually he could at least maintain a shred of control. But the women he'd made out with in bars before sure as hell were not Temperance Brennan.

Somewhere off in the distance, she could hear someone clearing their throat. Like a cat that had a fur ball. She dragged her mouth away from Booth's to glance to her left to see who the hell was standing there and why they were hacking their displeasure of her kissing the hottest man in the bar.

"Can I borrow her for a quick sec? I'll bring her right back," Angela had dragged her halfway to the bathroom by the time she even figured out what was going on.

"Bren. Bren, Bren, Bren. I love you, Sweetie, I do. But what in the hell are you _doing_?"

Tempe tried her best to smile at Ange, but could see in the bathroom mirror that it looked more like the grin of a crazy woman in the throes of a stroke. "What?" she asked.

"You're making out with Booth. In a bar. Or did that escape you?"

"Ange, you said I should get drunk! Have a good time! That's what I'm doing! Was doing! Until you played little miss zoom kill and dragged me in here!"

"Ok, sweetie, first, it's buzz kill, not zoom kill. Second, when I told you to have fun, this was not exactly what I had in mind!"

"I'm having fun, Ange! You know, Booth is an _excellent_ kisser!" Tempe explained loud enough for her friend and half of Washington to hear.

"I don't doubt it for a second, Bren, but you're drunk. I just don't want you to wake up in the morning with a big minty piece of FB eye candy on your pillow wondering what you did."

"Ange, it's not a big deal, okay? Promise. I love you, Angie. Just, you know… freeze out," Tempe rolled her eyes and walked out the door.

"CHILL, BRENNAN. IT'S CHILL OUT!" Angela shouted after her.

"Ready to go home?" Seeley nearly broke the glass beer bottle in his hand when Tempe walked up behind him and reached around him to rub her hands down his chest. He turned to face her and nodded slowly, glancing between her and Angela trying to figure out why Angela's face was pinched in concern.

"Well you're sure as hell not driving," Angela muttered under her breath.

"Nah, I'll take her. It's okay," Booth volunteered.

Jack did his best (which wasn't that great) to stifle a grin. He cleared his throat at the death glare he received from his fiancée. "You sure, man? We can take her. Not a big deal."

"Totally not," Angela agreed seriously.

"Do you think you all could stop talking about me like I'm not _here_?"

"Ooookay, Bones, time for bed," Booth wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her away from the hostile situation.

"Booth," Angela began as he headed for the door of the small establishment.

Seeley shot her a grin over his shoulder and waved as they headed for Tempe's little silver sports car.

When they got to the car, Tempe obediently handed over her keys and slid in the passenger seat. "you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked him, suddenly serious.

"I'm good. I didn't really drink all that much. Not nearly as much as you did. 'Course I don't think half the people in the bar drank as much as you did. Combined," he teased.

She grinned and shrugged. "I just felt like letting loose you know? Having a good time?" she glanced over at him, licked her lips and grinned.

He couldn't help but smile back, even though she scared him just a little. "I've never really seen this side of you, Bones."

"You like it?" she grinned as she buckled her seat belt.

"It's different all right," he replied. He sucked in a breath when he felt her hand settle itself on his thigh. His upper thigh. He put his own hand over hers and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Home, James," she said with a smile, settling back into her seat.

He chuckled and glanced at her. "Did I get one?" she asked, eliciting another laugh from him.

"You did," he replied, squeezing her hand again. He took his eyes off the road for a second and glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed, a soft smile on her slightly puckered lips. Too bad she wasn't going to remember any of this in the morning.

"Seeley," she sighed softly.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Her only response was a soft groan and a barely noticeable shifting in her seat. She was asleep. He drove in silence the twenty minutes to her apartment and swung the car easily into her parking space when he reached their destination.

"Wake up, Princess," he whispered, reaching across the small car to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand.

"A kiss," she sighed.

"What?"

"The princess. You're supposed to wake her with a kiss. Do I have to explain everything to you?" she asked with a soft smile, eyes still closed.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," he replied softly, dropping a gentle kiss on her lips. Her blue eyes fluttered open and in that moment he knew he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life as his lady scientist waking, and he probably never would again. He got out of the car and walked around to her door, pulling it open and offering her his hand. "C'mon, Bones," he coaxed gently.

She took his hand and stepped clumsily out of the car, collapsing against his chest for a moment. "You okay to walk?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

"Mhm," she answered, trying to stand straight, but failing miserably. "Sorry," she apologized as she staggered into him.

"Nah. It's okay, Bones. Princesses were meant to be carried anyway," he explained, scooping her off the ground with ease. She snuggled into his chest and he bit back a groan. Sainthood. Or ol' Pete had better be ready for him. He made it the few yards to her building and dug the key out of her purse to get in the front door. He keyed his way in clumsily, managing not to drop the drunken princess in his arms.

By some act of a higher being (likely St. Peter who didn't want to give Booth any more reasons to pick a fight), they made it to her apartment and he was once again able to key his way inside without any mishaps. He made his way back to where he knew her bedroom to be and tried not to stagger backward as everything that was so _Tempe_ assaulted his senses. He laid her gently in her bed, removing her knee high boots and her belt, covering her with the chenille throw he found at the foot of the bed. "Goodnight, Bones," he whispered, brushing a hand over her auburn hair.

"Kiss," she sighed.

"So now I've gotta kiss the princess _back_ to sleep?" he asked. She grinned playfully and nodded slowly, her eyes fluttering open and shut. He kissed the soft lips that parted beneath his on a sigh, her tongue trying to coax his in to play. He gave her another gentle kiss, a little deeper this time, and pulled back before she started something he was going to have to finish.

"Baby, Imma rock your world," she sighed. His pants became instantly too tight and he stifled a groan.

"Bones. Not tonight. You're drunk. If you remember, we can talk about this tomorrow."

"I'll remember," she sighed sleepily. "And I'll still wan..." she drifted away and then back again. "I always wanna," she whispered.

Seeley cleared his throat softly. "We'll see. If you, uh, tomorrow, if you still, uh, I'll…"

"What, Seeley?" she asked. "You'll wha…?" he waited a few seconds in the doorway until he was pretty sure she was fully asleep this time.

He whispered his answer in her general direction, barely able to hear the words himself. "I'll let you rock my world."

--

Don't forget the three R's: ritin', readin', and reviewin'!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**** You guys ROCK. This story has gotten more reviews in one chapter than any of my SVU stuff ever did in one chapter. You're awesome! By the way, if you know anyone who ISN'T a B/B shipper after Seeley's little speech last night and Brennan's "I-want-to-leap-across-this-table-and-****eff****-you" face, please have them committed. It's for ****their own**** good. :) On with the smut!**

**--**

Laws were made to keep things in order. There were laws about murder, laws about stealing, even ten basic laws that God had supposedly entrusted Moses to bring down from Mt. Sinai. None of these laws were supposed to be defied. For Temperance Brennan, there were also laws of physics that couldn't be ignored. She knew that it was physically illegal for the room to be spinning, but she was pretty certain she'd been on tilt-a-whirls that made her less nauseous. She could hear Angela's voice in her head, reminding her to put one foot on the floor to cease the motion. She slapped her bare foot against the wood floor and licked her parched lips, a result of drunkenly slumbering with one's mouth agape. Her other foot hit a lump in the tangled bedding and she whipped back the sheet to see what it was. At the foot of the bed, her dark denim jeans lay in a crumpled heap next to the black tank top she'd had on at the bar. Nice to know she still possessed the skill of sleep-stripping. Brennan swept the clothes off the bed with her foot and listened to them hit the floor with a soft 'plop.'

The room had thankfully stopped moving enough for her to get out of the bed. She stumbled gracelessly to the tall bureau and pulled open the top drawer crammed full of tee shirts. She shrugged into the first one her hand landed on and closed the drawer. Reaching into the next drawer down, she traded her lace thong for a pair of more sensible cotton panties with little pink lip prints all over them. Giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror on the back of the door, Brennan had to laugh. Partially because she looked (and felt) like death warmed over, and partially because of the tee shirt she wore. Angela had found it online and decided that Brennan had to have it, even though she had no personal knowledge of the statement on the front in bold, black print: **HAVE SAFE SEX: SLEEP WITH AN FBI AGENT**. Brennan shook her head with a laugh. If only Booth could see her now. At the thought of her partner, the previous night's events came slamming into Brennan's head with the force of a tidal wave. The bar. The… had she _really_ done that many shots? The… oh boy. Booth. In the corner… yikes. She vaguely recalled him bringing her home. Coffee. She needed coffee. And about half a dozen aspirin.

Padding into the kitchen, she was continuing her analysis and panicking about what had happened the night before when it hit her. Oh, shit. Had she offered to rock Booth's world? Oh, no. _Okay, Tempe. __Just calm down.__ This is not… WAIT! You woke up alone! Booth didn't stay! Thank God…_ She wanted to be certain the first time she had sex with Seeley Booth she'd remember it. That they both would. _Wait, what? Where the hell did that come from? Are you still DRUNK?!_

Between her analyzing and panicking, she completely missed the half-naked FBI agent watching her from her couch until he spoke. "Good morning, Sunshine. Or should I call you Princess?"

Brennan placed a hand over her heart reflexively, even though she knew logically it would do nothing to stop the racing cadence. "Booth. You scared me. And why would you call me Princess?"

"Sorry," he replied automatically. "Nice shirt," he ignored her question with a warm smile.

Brennan felt her cheeks flush first, followed by her ears, then her arms, neck, and chest. As she crossed her arms over said chest, she felt the area between her thighs heat as well, but she suspected that had less to do with her embarrassment than her arousal at his sleep-roughened voice. Choosing to ignore his comment, she decided to state the obvious instead. "You slept out here."

He nodded, waiting for her to say something else.

"Did I… _say_ anything out of the ordinary last night?"

"Such as?" he prompted.

"Okay… now don't laugh when I ask you," she requested, and he shook his head.

"Of course I won't."

"Did I…" she licked her lips nervously. "I seem to recall…" she sighed. "Booth, did I offer to rock your world last night?"

His face split into a wide grin, and she was faced with the sudden fear that either she was exactly correct, or she had outed herself as a member of the I-want-to-see-Seeley-Booth-naked-club. "I was wondering if you'd remember that," he said with a smile.

"But you were a perfect gentleman," she stated matter-of-factly.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, cocking his head the way he did when he was confused.

"Are you denying that you're a gentleman?" she asked, astonished.

"No! Bones, I… you… I…" now it was his turn to blush wildly. "What _do_ you remember from last night?" he regarded her suspiciously.

"Mmm… I remember Ange calling and dragging me out of my office at about nine, wanting me to meet her and Hodgins at a bar that… did Hodgins buy a bar?"

Seeley nodded. "That he did."

"Okay. So I got there, and you were there, and you bought me a shot and told me to 'loosen up, Bones' and as I recall, I was _quite_ loose.

Seeley bit back a grin at her phrasing, not wanting to get into exactly _how_ loose she'd tried to get. "And then what do you remember?" he prodded gently.

"Dancing with you and making out in the corner?" she asked with an almost timid quality to her voice.

He grinned and nodded. "And then Ange dragged you off to the bathroom for the umpteenth time and I have _no_ idea what happened, but when you came back, you nearly dragged me out the door."

"I think Ange and I got into a fight," Brennan offered thoughtfully. "I think we got into a fight over you."

Seeley tried to turbo down his ego, but the thought of the beautiful anthropologist and her best girlfriend fighting over him was pretty hot.

"I don't think it was how you're picturing," she said with an eye roll.

He cleared his throat as if that would assuage her suspicion. "Well anyway, we came back here, I poured you into bed – clothed more fully than you are right now, I might add – I grabbed a blanket, and crashed on the couch. And I woke up a little bit ago to you beating a path to the coffee maker –and the aspirin I assume – in your sexually explicit tee shirt and your… are those _lip_ prints?" he asked with a crooked grin. His question seemed to draw her attention to the fact that she wasn't wearing pants and she flushed embarrassedly again.

"Bones, relax," he stood and she leapt back as if he'd taken a swing at her. "Whoa, Bones, hey. What happened to the seductress from last night?"

"I think my hangover ran her off," Brennan replied wryly.

"It's just me, Bones. Relax," he took another step toward her and she visibly relaxed. "that's my girl," he took her gently into his arms and she stiffened slightly again. "It's a guy hug, Bones. We've gone over this."

She reached around and wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head rest against his bare chest. "You know, Booth, these really aren't guy hugs," she mumbled.

"I know, Bones," he sighed into her auburn curls that smelled suspiciously like a combination of sweat, bar stank, and… her. "But we're having a moment. Just go with it." She paused a beat but he could still feel the tension.

"Booth," she began, pulling back momentarily to look up at him.

"Yeah Bones," he sighed again, a little exasperated.

"Do you think I could kiss you? I want to do a little experiment."

Seeley lowered his face to hers and cupped her chin in his hand. "Temperance," he breathed. "Don't ever think you have to _ask_ to kiss me." And with that, _he_ kissed _her._

When Booth's lips hit hers, the first emotion that raced through Brennan's body was disappointment. A grave dissatisfaction with herself that she'd been too intoxicated the night before to remember how amazing his mouth felt on hers. He kissed her slowly, sliding the fingers of one hand into the tangled mass of unwashed curls on her head, the other grabbing a fistful of her tee shirt at the small of her back and holding on for dear life. She got into the rhythm too, running her hands up and down his back, her fingers bumping along the places where the corduroy couch had left it's impression on his smooth skin. She slowly dragged her nails along the little ridges, eliciting a shiver from him at the ticklish sensation. He abandoned his grip on her tee shirt to move down to pull her hips closer and groaned at how well she fit against him.

Never one to miss an opportunity, when her partner groaned, Brennan slid her tongue past his teeth into the warmth of his mouth. Swiping quickly and then retreating, she smiled at how fun it was to tease him. "You're doing that on purpose," he muttered against her mouth.

"Shh. I'm experimenting," she teased.

"Jeez. Sorry, Doc. Experiment away," he responded, still kissing her. He shifted back, dropping onto the couch, Brennan landing awkwardly in his lap, straddling one thigh and nearly biting off his tongue along with her bottom lip.

"What the hell was that?" she asked with a grin, licking at her tender lip.

"I was experimenting," he mocked.

"This is why I do the experiments and you carry the gun," she teased.

He laughed appreciatively, but stopped when he saw the smoky glint in her eye.

"Speaking of guns," she said, cupping her hand around the bulge behind the fly of his jeans. "What's this?"

"Dr. Brennan. Did you just make a sex joke?"

"Bad?" she asked tentatively.

"Hot," he replied, drawing her soft lips into another kiss. "_That_," he said, tipping his head in the direction of his lap, "is what you do to me, Bones."

She grinned, quite pleased with herself that she could have such a _tremendous_ effect on him. "Really?" she asked.

He groaned. "And the fact that you don't even realize it makes it that much sexier." She rewarded him with another smile and a wet kiss. "Okay. You go get in the shower, and then we're going to breakfast. I have suddenly worked up quite an appetite."

"Come with me?" she asked, not knowing where the husky quality in her voice had come from.

"Not unless you feel like taking a cold shower," he grinned, dropping another kiss on her lips. "And besides. Once I got you all naked and slippery, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions."

Her face and core heated at his words. "I'd be okay with that."

"Later, Bones. I promise. It's gonna be good, this thing between us. And it's gonna be explosive. But it's not going to be when you're drunk. Or when I'm trying to finesse you without falling and breaking my head open."

"But _when_ is it going to be?"

He laughed at the slight whine in her voice. "Want me pretty bad, huh?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and socked him in the chest. "You want it as bad as I do," she muttered.

He smiled and continued teasing her. "That was a yes."

"Shut up," she whined, dropping her head against his chest. He chuckled, and she discovered she loved the feel of the vibration against her cheek. He draped his arms loosely around her waist and stroked his hands up her bare back. He traced a pattern slowly around her rib cage to her breasts and weighed them gently in his hands. She groaned her acceptance and ground her center against his thigh.

"Temperance," he whispered.

"Yeah," she groaned.

"Shower. Breakfast. Then whatever you want. Maybe a movie, maybe dinner, maybe we'll just come back here and I'll feel you up to your heart's content."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. "Promise?"

"Promise."

--

**A/N: SSJL thinks I'm a tease. YOU guys don't think I'm a tease, do you? ****Mwahahaha**** Reviews are like kisses, people. The only bad one is one you didn't get! Hell, flame it if you want to. I'll just talk crap about you to my girls later. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Anyone besides my bff SSJL chomping at the bit for an update to this? I hope the extra-long chapter appeases you guys a little! wishing for extra-long reviews… Ahem. Sorry. :) I'm fairly certain this is going to be the last chapter for Intoxicated, but I do promise to wrap it up with a smutty little bow. And… hey! GET BACK HERE, Gayle! I see you skipping ahead to the smut. You too, Jaed. Now sit down and read the fluff first. ;) **_

_**Dedi for my bff and my sistah, the ridiculously talented JL. Lurve you like Bren lurves breakfast with Booth!**_

_**By the way, anyone reading Nekkidboothinc's Happy Holidays series? Damn, those girls are talented. And modest, from what I hear. Probably you should go check it out if you haven't yet. They're in my faves list. ;) XOXO, Kins**_

Seeley Booth wanted to invent a new word for beautiful. Something stronger. More meaningful. Because when he saw Bones step out of the bathroom after her shower, scrubbed pink and clean, and in that damned "sleep with an FBI agent" tee shirt, everything he felt transcended a little word like _beautiful._

Never mind _sexy._ Because unless she kept a spare arsenal of underwear in her bathroom, the panties dangling from her hand were a sure sign that she wasn't wearing any on her ass.

"Tease!" he called.

"Seriously, Booth," she half-shouted back from behind her partially closed bedroom door, "do you think I, of all people, have the capability to tease?"

"Is the pope Catholic?" he shouted back.

She poked her head around the door and shot him a confused look. "Booth, you know that the…oh," she grinned sheepishly. "Rhetorical question."

"Yes, Bones. Now go put some clothes on before I come in there and make us incredibly late for breakfast."

He really liked this. He didn't even know what "this" was, but whatever it was… damn. He could get used to it. As he waited for Bones to emerge from her bedroom (hopefully with pants on this time, or they really _were_ going to be late for breakfast) he wandered around her living room, taking time to examine artifacts from her life that he hadn't really paid attention to before. He'd been in her apartment a scant few times, and at least one of them he had been far too busy getting blown up by her homicidal Frigidaire to really notice the things around him. The first thing he picked up was a framed shot from Christmas Eve of Bones with her brother's step-daughters. "Auntie Temperance" had an arm wrapped around each girl and all three of them wore bright smiles. Seeley smiled back at the picture and set it back down on the bookshelf.

The next item he chose to examine was a photo taken on the sly from the same night, of Brennan and her father. The bright orange of Max's prison jumpsuit leaped out from the photo, but still could not detract from the beauty of Bones relaxed, eyes closed, with her head on her dad's shoulder. No matter how much she proclaimed her hatred for his actions, there wasn't a doubt in Booth's mind that she was a daddy's girl, through and through. Max's left arm was wrapped protectively around his daughter and he held the index finger of his right hand against his lips in a shushing motion. The teasing gleam in his blue eyes matched the fiery one Booth knew to exist in Brennan's when they were open.

"I'm almost ready!" Brennan called.

"Take your time, Bones. I'm only starving. Haven't quite reached famished yet."

"Sorry!" she hollered back guiltily.

Seeley chuckled under his breath as he moved on to another photo. This one nearly stole the air from his lungs: it was a shot of the backs of two heads leaned together in comfort. Even though he couldn't see the faces, he knew exactly who they belonged to; it was a picture of him and Bones (no doubt snapped by Angela) from two Christmases ago. Booth remembered the moment like it had happened yesterday, but had no idea anyone had captured it on film. He had been so bummed at only being able to see Parker through the sliding plate-glass doors at the Jeffersonian after "Moe and Curly Squint" had gotten them all quarantined to lock-down on Christmas Eve. He'd trudged up to the lounge to find Bones waiting for on the couch with a huge ceramic mug of hot chocolate. She'd asked if he was okay and he'd of course played the tough guy card and said he was fine. But she'd never know how much it meant to him that she was there. He'd dropped down next to her on the couch and they'd just sat in companionable silence for awhile. He'd wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she'd stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed into his side. People might say Bones lacked social skills, but she'd always been able to read him like a book. She knew him. She'd known he needed comfort that night. Hell, she was probably reading his mind right now. No one got him like she did. And for some reason, when he thought about that, it scared the hell out of him.

"Ready!" the object of his thoughts stepped into the living room, looking… whatever that word was that he was going to invent. Her long sable hair was pulled back in a clip and she wore light blue jeans and a turquoise and brown striped sweater. In one hand she carried brown slip-on shoes, in the other a pair of turquoise and brown striped socks.

"Nice socks," he teased.

"Learned from the master," she retorted good-naturedly. She flopped down on the couch and quickly pulled on her socks and shoes. "Ready?" she asked.

"Whenever you are," he answered.

"You okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"You just seem… never mind. I'm sure it's just me."

_You can say that again._

Forty-five minutes later, they were waiting on their food at a small Irish restaurant in downtown DC that specialized in Sunday morning breakfast. This, of course, included free refills on mimosas. Of which Booth had already had four and was working on his fifth. And the champagne was definitely going straight to his head.

"I invented a new word," he informed his partner.

"Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and taking a slow sip of her Irish coffee.

"Mhm. Well. I _want_to."

"You_want_ to invent a new word."

"Yup," he answered, nodding gleefully.

_Dammit. He's drunk. There goes the 'feeling me up to my heart's content.'_

"And this word is…"

"An adjective. I think. Or a noun."

"Okay. And the word itself is…"

"I haven't _decided_ yet, Bones. But it needs to be better than beautiful."

"More beautiful."

"No. It needs to be better than the _word_ beautiful."

"You want to replace the word beautiful. Booth, there are several words that work as synonyms to beautiful."

"No, Bones. I want something more… better… higher…"

"Something more descriptive than beautiful?"

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, as if she had managed to teach sign language to a three-toed sloth. Which, in a way, she felt like she had.

"And what made you decide to invent this new word?"

"You," he grinned foolishly.

"Me."

"Mhm. You're so… well, I'd say beautiful, but that's why I want to invent the new word, Bones. You're better than beautiful."

Brennan had never been one for drunken come-ons, but as far as they went, that was a pretty good one. And the fact that he'd started thinking about it before he started drinking… well, call her silly, but that meant something.

"Thanks," she smiled. She started to comment further, but they were interrupted by their food-bearing waitress.

Booth was relieved to see their waitress. He needed another drink. He'd never been so damn nervous in his entire life. He'd also never been one to let his "battleship mouth override his rowboat ass" as his commanding officer in the army used to say. But here he was, making all these promises to Bones, totally terrified of the idea of following through. She wasn't like the other women he'd dated. She was… Bones. _His_ Bones. She was… the _word_. The one that transcended beautiful. And he had no idea what to do about it.

Brennan wasn't known for being one of _those women._ The ones who played games with men. Coy was not something she did well, and things she didn't do well made her a little nervous (not that she'd ever admit it). But with Booth… she just felt so relaxed. She was rarely nervous around him. If she didn't count her initial reaction to him that morning, anyway. And if she was going to keep him from slamming back the champagne and OJ until he was too intoxicated to function, she was going to have to distract the hell out of him. Judging by their exchange when she got out of the shower, she was pretty sure how she could do it.

Slipping her left shoe off surreptitiously under the table, she ran her foot up the inside of Booth's pant leg. "So. This word. Is it _close_ to beautiful?" she asked quietly.

_Holy Shit._ Was she trying to kill him? Because tempting him when he was nine-tenths of the way to drunk would probably work. Booth was having a hard time focusing on the question that had come out of Brennan's mouth when she had her foot inside the leg of his jeans and she was dragging her toes up and down his calf. What in the hell had she said? Should he just answer yes? He would say yes to pretty much anything she wanted right now. He tried it. "Mhm."

"Something like… _sexy_, maybe?"

Sex? Yes. Definitely. Please. Right now. Want to go home? Or, to the Tahoe? Or, the bathroom maybe? God. She was going to be the death of him for _sure_. He was going to have to distract her.

"These are awesome pancakes, Bones. Here. Try them," he offered, practically flinging his fork in her face. He had the fine motor skills of a… well, a drunk.

Bones opened her mouth obediently, his one-track mind going instantly to an image of himself putting something much different than a fork-load of pancakes in her mouth. Note to self: feeding her was not going to help. It might distract her little twinkle toes from heading for the promised land, but it sure as hell wasn't calming him down when she licked her bottom lip like that.

"Booth?" she questioned innocently.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"_What?!"_he was sure he'd misheard her.

"The bite, Booth. Of pancake? Can I have it?"

"Oh, um, sure," he replied, trying to clear the fog from his over-mimosaed brain. He slipped the fork gently past her lips and she closed her mouth around it. He pulled the fork back as her eyes slid shut and she groaned.

"You're right," she said, eyes still closed in ecstasy. "That was_amazing_."

The imagery of her repeating that phrase about a different activity (that actually sounded remarkably similar to _fork_) sent his head back into the clouds. Distracting her was obviously not something he was excelling at.

"Do you want to try mine?" she motioned with her fork to the Belgian waffle on her plate. With its piles upon piles of strawberries and whipped cream. Strawberries. Whipped cream. Boy, today just wasn't his day. But for the life of him, he couldn't bear to turn her down.

"Yes," he responded vehemently. _Okay, now you're just being a masochist.__Noooo, I'm _distracting_ her. _Big_ difference._

Brennan held the forkful of waffle-y goodness up to his lips and he opened his mouth obediently. When she shoveled the food in, he closed his lips around it and sucked the fork dry. She swallowed hard and he could have sworn her face went a little pale. "Good?" she asked.

"The best."

"You've got a little…" she trailed off, touching her thumb to the left corner of her mouth.

He purposely went for the left corner of his mouth; even though he was pretty sure he was supposed to be mirroring her. "Did I get it?"

"Uh, no," she said. She licked her lips slowly and reached across the table to wipe the whipped cream from his face.

When Brennan went to wipe the whipped cream from the corner of Booth's mouth and his tongue darted out the side to lick the pad of her thumb gently, she very nearly died. It was entirely possible that this was the most erotic breakfast she'd ever consumed. And she still had three-quarters of a waffle left to finish.

Their waitress showed up again, stopping Brennan's quickly derailing train of thought. "How is everything?" she asked.

"Phenomenal," Brennan replied with a grateful smile. She looked at Booth who was holding up his empty champagne glass.

"Can I get another one of these?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," the waitress responded, apparently fully aware that this would make the sixth mimosa she'd brought him.

"I'm driving," Brennan assured her. "Can I get a plain cup of coffee please?"

"Definitely," the waitress grinned, obviously relieved that Booth would not be navigating the streets of DC any time soon. She returned shortly with their refills, smiling gently at the couple. "Anything else I can grab for you?" she asked.

"I think I'm fine, do you need anything else, Booth?" Brennan asked. As she asked the question, she planted her foot squarely in his lap and curled her toes against the fly of his jeans, smiling as he choked on the sip of mimosa he'd just taken.

"Uh, no, I think, uh, just our check, probably. Thank you," he stammered.

"Sure thing," the waitress responded, a slightly confused expression marring her pretty features.

The pair ate in silence a little while longer, Brennan's left foot remaining in Booth's lap the entire time she ate her waffle. She laughed to herself as she chewed slowly and thoughtfully while Booth raced through his stack of pancakes as if someone was going to take them away if he didn't eat them in a certain amount of time. Shortly after the waitress brought their check, Booth looked up at her with a still-not-swallowed mouthful of his breakfast. "Ready?" he asked. She couldn't help but giggle at his rush to get her home.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" she teased.

"Bo-nes," he whined. "Remember? Me? Feeling you up to your heart's content?"

"Weren't there a _couple_ options you gave me this morning?" She knew there had been, but when she looked across the table at the handsome man on the other side, wanting to take her home and ravish the daylights out of her… hell if she could remember what they were.

"Yeeesss… are you expecting me to remember them?"

"Nope," she said with a smile, dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

"Bones, let me get it," Booth offered.

She smiled at him as she finally let her foot drop from his lap. "You can get next time."

_Next time_. As far as Seeley was concerned, sweeter words had never been spoken. He nodded and smiled, slugging back the last of his mimosa as he dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and handed them over. "You know I'm not really all that drunk anymore," he mentioned.

Bones regarded him skeptically. "I'd rather not take any chances, thanks."

"Oh, no, I'm not saying I should drive. I just…" he could feel himself blushing as he trailed off.

"Just wanted me to know you were sober enough to…" she blushed just as red as he had.

"Yep. That."

"Noted."

"Okay then," Booth rubbed his hands together nervously. "My apartment's closer. Let's go."

When they were almost halfway back to his apartment, Booth got another brilliant (if he did say so himself) idea – not to mention a way to pay Bones back for her sexy little game of footsie in the restaurant. She was driving carefully, not used to navigating a vehicle as large as the Tahoe. She was actually pretty cute leaned slightly forward in her seat, her hands perfectly placed on the wheel at ten and two. He caught her eye and smiled when she glanced over at him for about the sixth time in as many blocks. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she blushed, focusing her attention back on the task at hand: getting them home before either one of them died of sexual frustration (or just plain died from the fact that she couldn't seem to keep her eyes on the road for longer than a block). Seeley waited another block before putting his plan into action.

Brennan was trying to focus on the road when she felt a hand on her knee. She swerved slightly, but just gripped the wheel tighter, knowing full well he was looking for a reaction; determined not to give him one.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked innocently.

"Fine, why?" she replied.

"No reason," he shrugged.

She sucked in a breath as his hand crept farther up to her thigh, the heat from his palm searing her skin through her jeans. His fingertips brushed back and forth over the inside seam of her pants, nonchalantly, as if he just kept his hand in her lap when he wasn't using it. His hand. Not her lap. But not like that. Jesus, she was on a slippery slope.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Booth!" she sighed, letting out a gasp as his hand nestled into the juncture between her thigh and her pelvic bone.

"Yes?" he asked, in a tone she was quickly learning was anything but innocent.

"We're almost there. Can you _wait_?"

"Barely."

Brennan bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She almost wanted to laugh out loud at how on edge they had each other. She wasn't usually one to think with her heart, but she'd learned a lot from Seeley Booth in the few years of their partnership. It was _them_. Booth and Brennan. They were good at _everything_ they did. Solving cases, fighting, kissing, and pretty soon, making love. Oh she could hardly wait. If she didn't die from the anticipation first. Something about knowing how bad he wanted her made her want him just that much more. She drove silently the final few blocks to his apartment, trying to keep her breathing steady since he still hadn't moved his damn hand.

When they got to the parking lot of his building, she slowed down, pulling the Tahoe gently into the parking space marked with his building number. "See? No reason to go whipping in there at mach 3, Booth," she pointed out.

"Bones. If there _ever_ was a time to _whip in_ at mach 3 – nice double entendre, by the way –it is now."

"What double… oh," Brennan blushed a deep crimson. How in the hell did she keep walking into these things?

"C'mon," his deep voice came from her left – she hadn't even noticed him getting out of the vehicle and coming around to open her door for her. _Jesus. Get it together, Temperance_.

Seeley took the beautiful doctor's hand and helped her down from the SUV, twining his fingers with her, brushing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. She looked up at him with a slight smile. "I'm not sure…" his heart sank.

"Not sure about what?" he begged. _Please don't be backing out. Please please please._

"I'm not sure how I can feel so nervous and so excited at the same time," she whispered. Oh thank you, God. Nervous he could deal with. Excited he could _definitely_deal with.

He smiled a grin that he hoped was more winsome than wolfish. "We can take our time," he offered sweetly.

"Do_you_ want to take our time?" Brennan responded.

"Personally, I want whatever makes you happy."

"Booth," she whispered.

"Yeah, Bones," he replied, swallowing thickly.

"If you don't get over here and kiss me right this second…" she trailed off.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not gonna be very happy."

And then suddenly he was there; near her, by her, around her; but all she wanted was him over her, above her, and (oh God) in her. They groped their way (literally and figuratively) up the short single flight of stairs to his apartment, both of them feeling like they were lost in a flurry of kissing and touching. He wrapped his arms around her waist and slanted his mouth over hers at the top of the stairs, taking her a little by surprise, even though she'd practically offered herself up on a plate. She just hadn't expected him to be so… wow. Now she was going to be the one adding to the dictionary.

"Booth," she sighed.

"Seeley," he murmured back.

She was confused by his response for a moment before it dawned on her. He wanted to hear her say his given name. Never one to disappoint a man who was about to make her orgasm, she groaned his name low in the back of her throat.

"So fuckin' hot, Temperance," he responded.

"Bones," she amended quietly.

He chuckled against her mouth and pulled back a moment later. "Bones," he agreed, stroking a hand over her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Brennan launched herself at him, kissing him so hard it knocked their teeth together. Booth fumbled momentarily, the doorknob to his apartment digging into his hip. Brennan shoved his keys at him and he managed to get the door unlocked, them inside, and Bones shoved against the closed-again door without any major mishaps.

"And to think I let you convince me you didn't _like_ it when I called you Bones," he teased against her mouth, hoisting her up by her waist, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips.

"Yeah well," she teased back. "You can call me Temperance when you come."

"Christ, woman," he whined, dragging his mouth away from hers long enough to kiss a trail down her throat to the top of her chest. Her head dropped back against the door, thudding hard enough to knock a photo frame off the wall to the wood floor, shattering the glass.

"Oops," she whispered, eliciting a chuckle from Booth. He pressed her a little harder against the wall, trapping the heat of himself between their bodies.

"Don't worry about it, it probably won't be the last thing that gets broken today," he assured her with a lascivious grin.

"What does _that_ mean?" Brennan teased.

"Honestly? No idea. Bones, you put me in a place where I can't even talk dirty coherently."

"I think I'm going to take that as a compliment," she grinned.

"You should."

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones," he sighed with a grin.

"Are we going to make out against the door all afternoon or are you going to get to that feelin' me up stuff?"

"Feelin' you up. Definitely." Booth turned from where he had her pressed against the door and headed down the hall to his bedroom, Brennan's legs still wrapped around his hips. He slid his hands up under her sweater to stroke along the smooth skin of her back, and when he reached her bra, he unhooked it deftly with one hand.

"I bet you got a lot of practice at that with all the Candis and Bambis and Buffys back in the day," she muttered dryly.

"If it's any consolation, yours is the only one I've wanted to unhook for a long time now," he grinned.

"It helps a little," she teased.

"And seriously, Bones? You think I would date a girl named Candi or Bambi or _Buffy_? Really?" he asked incredulously.

"I dunno… you look like a Buffy kinda guy."

"No ma'am. I'm a Bones kinda guy."

"I think I like that better."

"Me too, babe. Me too."

She grinned at him and resumed kissing him, letting him drag her sweater off over her head and toss it and her bra on the floor. "Wow," he breathed.

She rolled her eyes. "They're breasts, Booth. I'm sure you've seen them before."

"Not these ones," he grinned and a little thrill ran through her. "And what's with making me out to be a dirty man-whore?" he asked, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed.

She couldn't quite decide if he was genuinely offended or just playing. "Um," she began. He raised an eyebrow at her before shucking his own shirt. "I wanted to do that," she complained.

"Nope. Dirty man-whores take off their own clothes. Better make it up to me or you won't get to do the pants either."

Okay. Definitely playing. "I don't think you're a man-whore, Booth," she conceded.

"Yes you do, you think I date girls named Buffy and that I've seen every boob this side of the Mississippi."

"I'll make it up to you," she offered.

He grinned. "You'll get your turn. Right now it's mine." With that, he went back to work worshipping her body. And what a body it was: soft, tight skin, full breasts tipped with pink nipples that he wanted in his mouth more than he wanted his next breath. He ran his hands over them, tracing her curves to her flat stomach, down her abs, teasing his fingers against the waistband of her jeans. Her hips launched off the bed, thrusting into his hand. "Ah – ah – ah," he said. "I'm feeling you up, remember?"

"To my heart's content," she reminded him. "Consider it content."

"So you want me to stop?"

"Um, never in ten million years."

He smiled at her sighed response, flicking the button of her jeans open and sliding the zipper down. He moved down the bed a couple feet and pulled her jeans the rest of the way off so she was spread out before him clad only in lacy black and blue boyshort panties. "Would you do me a favor?" he asked, moving back up to lie beside her.

"At this point, anything," she replied huskily.

"Would you consider coming to crime scenes in just your panties?"

She let out a loud chuckle. That had been about the last thing she'd expected him to say. "Well if I thought you'd get anything accomplished, I'd come to work in just my panties every day," she lied with a smile.

"I know you're lying. But thank you for saying so. Gives me a little more fantasy material," he grinned, pressing a kiss to her naked breast. She groaned a response, inspiring him to kiss the other breast tenderly.

"Good, so good," she moaned. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, nipping it gently. His weight balanced on his left forearm, he traced a path with his right hand down her stomach to her panties. He teased her, tracing over the lace, letting his hand settle over her mound. She squeezed her thighs together, effectively trapping his hand, but torturing herself a little in the process. When she let up slightly, he moved his hand back up and slipped it beneath the lacy panties. Deftly, he found her clit and brushed against it whisper-light. Her hips bucked off the bed into his hand and she made a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan. He'd never heard anything sexier.

"I think you're about ready to explode," he whispered against her lips, coming back up to kiss her gently.

"Mmmm, you think?" she asked, shoving her tongue roughly into his mouth. "I think _you've_ got too many clothes on." She reached for the button of his jeans, but with two of his fingers inside her and his thumb pressing against her clit, she couldn't quite muster the concentration. She jerked roughly and managed to luck out, the button on his jeans popping loose. She made a move to the zipper, her hand coming into contact with the bulge behind his fly for the first time that night.

"Gently," he hissed, reminding her that she wasn't the only one on edge.

Sorry," she smiled, pulling the zipper down as gently as she could manage, and then slipping her hand inside. "Off," she requested. He moved his hands from her body and stood, pulling her panties down her legs, massaging lightly along the way. He pulled the panties off her feet with a flourish, tossing them behind him. "I meant you," she pouted.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologized, divesting himself of his pants and boxers. "Better?"

"Be better if you were inside me," she groused.

"I aim to please," he reminded her. He hovered over her, bracing his weight on his left side again, he tested her readiness one more time before sliding his erection inside.

She bucked her hips against his with a groan. "I think I just died," she praised.

He smiled gently, taking possession of her mouth once again. Sliding his tongue inside, he kissed her deeply, pouring his whole heart into the kiss. He pushed her closer to the edge with every thrust, hoping to show her that "making love/defying physics" thing they'd talked about one night. Suddenly, he could feel her walls start to clamp down around him and he knew it would only be seconds longer.

"Unh, Seeley," she sighed into his mouth, her tongue tangling with his for control.

"Temperance," he replied, trying to signal to her how close he was. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his face to hers in a drugging kiss. He reached between them and massaged her clit back and forth. "Come on, Bones," he whispered. "Fall. I've got you. I'm right here."

His whispered vow was all it took to send her spiraling over the precipice of her orgasm, triggering his only a moment later. She dug her nails into his back as he came, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal and the flashes of light in front of her eyes to cease.

"Temperance," he whispered reverently.

"You're an amazing man, Seeley Booth," she marveled a few moments later, wrapped in his strong embrace.

"So they say," he replied cockily, his heart still racing.

"If not a little over confident," she responded with an eye roll and a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

He looked at her seriously, dragging a curl off her forehead. "I can't _touch_ how amazing you are, Bones. Not on my best day."

She smiled and kissed him again, her eyes drifting shut then fluttering back open.

"Close them," he whispered as he suddenly remembered her tee shirt from that morning. "You're safe. You're sleeping with an FBI agent."

Brennan nodded and smiled when he pressed an intoxicating kiss to her lips. There may not be an alcohol named Seeley Booth, but she wasn't complaining – there was no way it would ever compare to the real thing.

--

_**A/N: I know Jamie about died of anticipation – hope it was worth it for the rest of you! Let me know!**_

_**Be on the lookout for another chapter of "Love Is" coming soon to an inbox near you – followed by a new Brennan/Booth love affair to be named later:)**_

_**My love to all of you,  
Kinsey**_


End file.
